After our mysterious encounter with our art history
professor, we broke off and scattered about the museum to select a painting or
statue to write about. I chose a large canvas by Frederic Edwin Church (1826-1900)
entitled Cotopaxi (1862), a large tableaux that filled up an entire
gallery wall, or so it seemed to me, featuring a volcano erupting. Smoke billowed
up into the stratosphere, creating a blood red sky around a setting sun, with
lush, colorful jungles stretching toward you in the foreground. There was even
a little South American man and burro on a path watching the whole thing. Ever
since school trips in childhood, it had been my favorite painting in the whole
museum; I could stand in front of it and have it fill my whole field of vision
for hours at a time. I remembered a teacher in grade school telling us it was
an allegory for the Civil War that was waging in the American South when it was
painted, so I threw that in my paper, although my guess was Professor Joshua
bar-Joseph, whom his teaching fellow Michele Selket referred to by the mystical
nickname Doctor Messiah, would consider such pedestrian interpretation overly-determined
and literal-minded.